


Broken

by Mintsea



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of the War, Angst, F/M, George is in a bad place over Fred’s death; but so is everyone else, Post Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Hogwarts, Survivors Guilt, Trigger warning: considering suicide / sacrifice, Trigger warning: survivors guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22130938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mintsea/pseuds/Mintsea
Summary: In the weeks following the aftermath of the war, the Burrow is shaken by a outpouring of grief and survivors guilt in the middle of the night.H/G (slow burn angst), R/H.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley / Hermione Granger (mentioned)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 49





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t written HP fanfic in like ten years. Sorry if I have forgotten some of the magic mojo. I wrote this in two hours on my phone. Sorry for any errors.

The sharp sound of the door slamming heavily from the floor below reverberates loudly around the room, breaking the dark peace of Ginny’s bedroom. Her eyes flick open urgently and instantly meet Harry’s, his face only inches from hers on the other side of her pillow. Hermione had left for Ron’s room only a couple of hours ago, after the wireless had clicked off downstairs signally bedtime for Ron’s parents, and Harry had appeared a few minutes later, having no where else to inconspicuous hide but Ginny’s room, given all the other bedrooms were occupied with Weasley children who didn’t know about Ron and Hermione’s new sleeping arrangements despite the status of their new relationship known amongst the family.

It had been bittersweet at first, the thought that the thing pushing Harry and Ginny back together was the fact that now his two best friends spent more time snogging than not; but the reality was that the progress of Ron and Hermione’s relationship had had the opposite effect on Harry and Ginny’s - despite sharing the same pillow, and occasionally waking up with Ginny in his arms, her nose pressed into his neck, they’d actually stalled...their status still firmly rooted in broken up territory, neither one daring into the turmoil and aftermath of the war only three weeks old, to bridge the rapids of their feelings for each other.

Harry’s not wearing his glasses but Ginny knows at this distance he can see her clearly and the look of confusion that crosses her face as the muffled voices below grow louder, sliding under the door. He raises a finger to his lip, signalling he’d heard the racket before her and was trying to listen into the conversation.

Ginny listens for a while, the voices growing urgent and louder and she frowns.

“Is that George?” She whispers.

Harry nods. “I think he’s drunk...”

Ginny sighs. “I bet he’s splinched himself again,” she says, throwing back the covers. “The stupid prat’s probably lost another eyebrow apparating home drunk from Lee’s again-“

Harry places a hand on her arm, stilling her, and he doesn’t remove it as she looks back at him. “Gin, I don’t think that’s what they are arguing about...”

The conversation below swells and bleeds into the hall, leaving them frozen in place as they listen.

“...You can’t live like this, George!” Molly cries with concern as heavy footsteps - most likely George’s - thud up the stairs to the landing outside Ginny’s room. “I haven’t seen you sober in days...and you won’t talk to any of us...”

There is a mirthless bitter laugh as George stomps across the landing, Molly’s shadow following in the gap of light under the door.

“You think this is bloody living?” George thunders in reply, his speech tainted more with pain that inebriation. “Mum, you don’t know how this feels...none of you do! And I don’t want to fucking talk about it with any of you! You know what? I fucking wish I’d died too. So I wouldn’t have to see the bloody pity in everyone’s eyes.”

Ginny’s breath hitches, and her hand grips back at Harry’s her fingers entwined with his.

There is a beat of painful silence in the hall as George’s words sink in. As George realised the enormity of what he’s said. As Molly’s heart breaks. All over again. Over and over again.

Ginny’s heartbeat pounds loudly in her ears and before she realises, hot tears are rolling down her cheek.

“Mum, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“ but George stops abruptly as Molly’s emotions boil over into deep painful sobs, prompting the door at the far end of the hall to open with a creak.

“George,” Arthur’s calm soft voice sounds. “Go to bed, Son.”

“Dad, I....” but George falters his voice full of tears.

“We know. We love you.”

Then, as quickly as it began, it’s over. George shuffles up the stairs to his room and the door to Molly and Arthur’s bedroom close with a click, the landing flooded in darkness seconds later.

“Are you-?” Harry tries to ask, squeezing Ginny’s hand but she wretches it away, wiping her tears on the back of her hand. 

“Do you think he’ll hurt himself?” She asks in a low voice. “He said he wished he’d died too? I don’t think Mum will cope if he does something stupid like that...”

Harry doesn’t really know how to answer that. So he moves closer to her, trying to be of comfort when his words can’t.

“I don’t know Gin-“ but that’s not the answer Ginny wants, and she recoils from him as he reaches up brush the tears from her cheek, pushing off the bed and clumsily finding her feet on the other side.

“How did you deal with it?”

Harry’s brow furrows. “With?”

“With...the survivors guilt...after Cedric...Sirius...Dumbledore...after those deaths...before the war...how did you deal with it?”

Harry frowns, swinging his feet over the side of the bed towards the side Ginny was standing. He considers her question for a moment. “I don’t think I did,” he admits. “I don’t think I have. Not fully. If I could trade places, for any, for all of them...if I could die again to bring them back...Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, Mad Eye, Dobby, Fred, Snape, Tonks, Remus...Colin...the others...I would. Without hesitation.“

She’s in his arms in seconds climbing into his lap, her lips pressed to his, her tears wet on his cheek, an arm wrapped around her holding her close. He deepens the kiss before he’s realises, her knees bracketing his, as his mouth moves hungrily against hers. Their lips break apart panting, foreheads pressed together and Ginny realises that Harry too has been crying.

And then there is a soft knock at Ginny’s bedroom door, and before they have any time to fully react and untangle themselves Hermione appears, her own eyes glassy with unshed tears.

“Sorry,” she says awkwardly as Ginny and Harry reluctantly get to their feet, “But Arthur’s likely to check on everyone and I don’t fancy being caught in Ron’s room...”

“You’d better go...” Ginny agrees, running her hand through her mussed hair. She crosses her arms against her chest, like she’s trying to hold herself together.

Harry nods but doesn’t move. “Gin, I...I’m sorry.”

Ginny nods. “I know,” she tells him, making brief eye contact before she busies herself fluffing the pillows and blankets on her bed with trembling hands. “Me too.”

Hermione tries to give Harry a comforting smile, but it feels week and sad and Harry just nods solemnly in reply. He pulls his glasses and wand from Ginny’s bedside table and leaves, not daring to look back as the door closes behind him.

“What’s he apologising for now?” Hermione asks softly when she’s finally resettled in her camp bed.

Ginny frowns in the dark room, the bed feeling much colder without Harry.

“For living. For surviving when the others didn’t. For not dying so they could all live.” A tear slides down Ginny’s cheek again and she wipes it away.

When she says me too, she doesn’t mean she’s sorry too that Harry didn’t die. But that she’s sorry she couldn’t make the same sacrifice, that she couldn’t have traded her life for everyone else to live. And, she’s not the only one.

“I wonder if one day, it’ll start to hurt less,” Hermione asks, her own voice lined with tears.

“I hope so,” Ginny replies. “One day.”

Upstairs, Harry creeps back into Ron’s room and sits down on the side of his camp bed. He studied his wand carefully, rolling it between his fingers absentmindedly as he thinks.

Ron lifts his head from his pillow, searching for Harry in the darkness.

“You alright, mate?” He asks croakily.

Harry frowns. His gaze finding Ron’s. “No. No, I don’t think so.”

Ron nods. “Me either, if I’m being honest.”


End file.
